


The last time

by wanderingsmith



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-18
Updated: 2008-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-08 04:48:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/72854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingsmith/pseuds/wanderingsmith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>nightmares and love</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The forest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.
> 
> AN: fumbling my way from an idea.. the story was too vague a thought to start with. just need to sublimate stress by writing...

“-Elizabeth!!"  The shout echoed through the nighttime forest.

  
John jerked upright, panting, eyes wide with pain.  He jerked again, pulling back and reaching for his gun instinctively before his mind snapped aware and recognized Ronon Dex reaching for him in worry.

"Sheppard?"

"Shit."  He couldn't seem to catch his breath, couldn't stop the kaleidoscope playing behind his eyes.  Fear and pain and death, over and over; and nothing he could do but watch.  He gave up and hunched over his bent knees, waiting out the shudders.  Instinctively fighting off the horror with every positive memory he could get his scrabbling mental fingers on.

When his breath stabilized and he could think again, he lifted his head, only now realizing that his teammates were all nearby, awake and conspicuously *not* looking at him. 'Dammit!'  He'd never had one of those on missions before.  Nightmares he had aplenty, they all did, and it was an uncommented-upon fact that if you had the watch, part of your job was sometimes to wake your tossing and moaning friends. But the nightmares that woke him yelling and panicked had up until now been reserved for when they were home.

"Sorry guys.  I'm fine.  Just a particularly bad dream."

Ronon nodded silently with one casual glance, continuing to watch the forest with the fire at his back.

Now that he'd recovered himself, Teyla stopped flicking dry grass into the low fire and looked at him with a worried frown, "So it seemed."

Rodney was quiet, for once, just giving him a wary look from his unmoving crouch next to Teyla.  Too familiar himself with nightmares and not sure how to deal with them in his friend.

"Are you certain you are all right, John?"

He shrugged, smiling with determined cheer, "Yeah.  Travelling on foot through these damn moutains for a week just left too much time to think, I guess.  Tell me again why we had to do this, Rodney?"

The scientist gave him a small understanding grin, then lay back down to sleep, ignoring the rhetorical question and leaving Teyla to try to get him to talk.  Hoping she would manage it; knowing it was unlikely, but also knowing there was nothing *he* could do to help.

Watching Rodney settle down gave John a few extra seconds before facing the inquisition.  By then, Teyla had shifted herself to sit in front of him.  She had hoped, after all the close calls they had all had during the recent siege, that her friend would find his way to a relationship with the woman he so obviously cared for.

Their blatant continued loneliness unfortunately said otherwise.  And the resigned pain in his eyes when he finally faced her had the look of familiarity; this was not the first time he had had this dream.

"Sometimes, speaking of them helps."

John smiled wanly, "They say that in this galaxy too, uh?  Has it ever helped *you*, Teyla?"

Giving his question fair hearing, she thought back to the early years of her marriage, of nightmares where her husband would be taken from her, as so many friends had been.  Of discovering the shortcoming in every saying, every story; that no words could be understood by emotions.  Love was powerful, but it was not reasonable, nor was it willing to compromise.  Being told to live for today... did nothing to stop the nighttime fear that tomorrow would be dark and empty.  "Yes John, it did," she held his disbelieving stare, "It did not make the nightmares stop immediately... however, knowing someone knew of them... Having his support... gave me the strength to face them each night.  And they *did* eventually fade," her voice quieted as she got lost in happy memories.

Seeing the fondness in her eyes as she remembered made him realize just how little they all knew of each other.  He no more knew who she was thinking of than she knew of his demons.  Though, he winced, she obviously knew who *he* thought of.

Taking the opportunity of her distraction to silently shift back into sleep position, he let himself, just for a second, wish... he couldn't even pinpoint something realistic to wish for.  It was *everything*.. or the status quo, anything else was impossible and/or not worth the risk.  And *everything* was impossible too.

Aw hell, there was a reason he didn't usually go down this mental path.  Even assuming he believed Teyla's claim that talking helped... who was he supposed to talk to?  If it was a general nightmare.. yeah, he might, remotely possibly be willing to talk to Elizabeth.  But *these* nightmares, if he tried to be vague about the contents... it would still be obvious they were about losing a loved one.  Which would make her think he was in love with someone else.  Even if she *didn't* care... well *that* hardly did anything to make him feel better, now did it?  Just drop it, Sheppard.

He heard Teyla move away to her own pillow and closed his eyes, knowing he wouldn't be able to sleep.  That slideshow from his dream was still there, and the only way he had to make it go away was watching it while awake, forcing himself to counter each shot with one of the truth, until truth was once again the stronger memory.

Counter Kolya taking her from him with the smile she wore the very first time he saw her.  Counter darts flying at Atlantis and static on his radio with the half-hidden pleasure when he gave her her birthday present. The pain in her eyes when she accepted that they were out of options to save Atlantis; the pleased canary smirk when he realized she was the reason he was staying on Atlantis, that he had proved wrong so many who were sure he'd be retired a major.

Hearing she was dead... his breath stuttered at that one, awake or not, his gut roiling with acid.  Even the memory of her breaking through her own usual physical distance to hug him... needed a lot of replaying to make that pain fade to the more bearable daily level he was used to.

And through it all again.  Other memories; of smiles, shinning eyes, enthusiasm, indulgence, affection.  Even worry, as long as he knew it was unfounded.  Anything to beat down and suffocate the horrors, both real and some that were straight from his too-knowledgeable imagination.

Thank god this night was almost over; tomorrow they would make it home.  Seeing Elizabeth would do wonders for his edginess.  A week really was just too long. **  
**__


	2. Return

As he stepped through the gate, John's eyes immediately searched out Elizabeth, finding her walking to him from besides the ramp. His shoulders dropped as tension he hadn't realized was bunching him up disappeared. Safe. She *was* safe.

He returned her small relieved smile, forgetting where they were for one second. An indrawn breath that started normal kept on going; lavender and Elizabeth. "I'm home," the sighed words were almost drowned out by the sounds of the rest of his team coming through around him. He could see that she heard him though; a tilt of the head in worry at his mood. He could also see that she looked way too pale and tired; Carson must have been too busy training his new people to nag her properly. *Or* she'd been as worried as he had been; he *did* have a habit of getting into trouble.

"Welcome back," the words were for the whole team, but her eyes only flickered to the others briefly, coming back to rest on him searchingly, "Good trip?"

"Well, we found that stash of stolen Ancient artifacts, so *I*'m calling it good," Rodney threw over his shoulder as he trotted off, eager to get the post-mission nonsense over with so he could get to work.

As John rolled his eyes and Elizabeth laughed, simply happy to have them all back safe, Teyla caught her Satedan teammate's eye and discretely nodded toward the departing scientist, pleased he had already understood enough of their dynamics to know she meant for them to also make themselves scarce. His conspiratorial grin of almost-amusement at the situation was a relief somehow, and it occurred to her that she was no longer the sole voice of reason among the very diversely cryptic and sometimes-unpredictable members of SGA1. How interesting. She was smiling as they detoured around the slowly descending leaders of Atlantis on their own way to the infirmary.

"..waiting.. for the other shoe to drop," John was momentarily distracted in his answer as he saw the rest of his team also scoot away. When he refocused on Elizabeth, for an instant he was back in the forest in the night; reliving her walking up and hugging him in this very room... was it already more than a month ago? Her eyes had the same look of relief and disbelieving worry now. He almost wished she *would* do it again; wouldn't hesitate to return it this time. Wouldn't let surprise rob him of the chance to hold onto her.

"Well, you're safe, which means it never fell." She stepped away as they neared the stairs, "Which from *my* point of view, is a good thing. You all look like you could use a good night's sleep though. Why don't we keep the debrief for the morning?"

He tried not to show how much he wanted to just follow her, shadow her like one of Earth's satellites; watch her, obey her, protect her. It was who he was, who he would be so long as she let him; as the air force and the IOA let him. But that knowledge had to stay inside him, unspoken; and so, unbroken.

With a last nod and smile she was gone to the higher level, leaving the bittersweet knowledge that she was within reach... and yet completely out of reach. He turned away, following the path the rest of his team had already taken to the infirmary. Following the thread of his life.

\-------------------------------

"Wait up!" John hurried down the corridor to catch up with Teyla.

Teyla gave him an inquisitive look, waiting to hear why he hadn't let her get to her quarters and a much wished-for shower.

He hesitated, looking at her and not sure he hadn't imagined the sadness in her a few minutes ago in the infirmary. "Listen, ahhh, last night.." he looked away, "I didn't mean to.." running his hand through his hair, he turned back to face her, speaking in a rush, "Didn't mean to bring back bad memories." He was apologetic, both for his reminiscence-inspiring question the night before, and for his fumbling now.

Teyla smiled serenely, "You.. *did* bring some sad memories to mind. But they held sweetness also. And brought other memories that I cherish." she watched him nod agreement while looking away from her again; yes, he understood *that* at least. Perhaps merely a suitable push was needed... "I have been reading collections of 'quotes' from Earth. When they use words I understand, it is very interesting to see the beliefs represented." She ignored his neutral grunt, "One that I remembered as I went to sleep last night was: 'You should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.'"

She watched his jaw clench as he continued to look down, saw sadness shadow his expression and knew he would not be taking the unspoken lesson to heart. At least not today. "Those memories? They would have been poisoned if I had not known that my husband knew I loved him when he died." When his head jerked up in surprise at the private information, she nodded and turned back on her way, having no wish to hear any of his condolences. And still hoping her words might percolate through his mind, if given a chance...


	3. Atlantis night

He was too far, couldn't get to her in time! He cut aside from his path toward her without a decision being needed, but he was still not in place when he saw the gun fire.

"*NO*!" An instant after the shout rang out, a body fell heavily.

John lay crumpled on the floor, whimpers mixing with his panting. Too stunned from trying to jump in the path of the bullet and landing hard besides his bed instead for his mind to kick-start properly. The terror still gibbered through his mind, only fading slowly as his body twitched him jerkily to his knees.

Shuddering and feeling the pain of loss still gripping his chest, he looked around, emotionally lost; searching for... Elizabeth? Why.. Wha... He gulped, and after a failed attempt, managed to take a deep breath. And another. And was able to think; see his bed, see his room. Remember he was home. Elizabeth was fine. No Genii, no gun; no 'too little too late'.

He let his aching body slump against the side of the bed, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the mattress to breathe. One hand fumbled for his bedside table, spasming around the edge of a picture frame on a shelf halfway down and pulling it to his bent knees.

At first he just stroked that metallic frame, knowing what it held, not 'by heart' but 'in' his heart; using it just as a focus, a handhold to beat off the fear. Once he caught his breath and had his reality once again set, though, his head lowered and he tilted the device with learned expertise toward the faint light from a night-lamp in the bathroom, brightening the LCD display at the same time. A knuckle automatically traced the outline of a pale cheek while his sight focused on the sparkling eyes of the woman laughing directly into his.

He could never remember what he'd said or done to make her laugh like that, but he'd often wished he dared take *anything* off-world with him that could be traced back to her. Saying good morning to her would do wonders for his temper. On the other hand, having someone like Kolya get his hands on something so telling was a thought to add to his nightmares. He shuddered before he could nix the thought.

He flipped to the next picture; unaware of the camera, eyes closed and head back, basking in the bright sun on her balcony. That one managed to drag a shaky smile from him, drew his soul into it; made him want so badly to stand besides her... To feel the comfort of her presence besides him.

And another; dripping mud, hands on her hips and glaring indignantly at someone off to the side, an adorable drowned kitten trying to look fierce. He took a deep breath, realizing his chest wasn't constricted anymore and his lips had stretched into a real smile; the mental darkness dragged kicking and screaming another 100 yards back.

Sleeping on a hospital stool next to his bed, sleep-messy and 'looking' like a crick in the neck. Arms crossed and rolling her eyes at Rodney. Watching the control room pensively, fingers stroking a certain present.

Every picture a moment out of time, a moment precious and necessary for his daily sanity; each adding its kick to evicting the remnants of the dream.

He hesitated before clicking to the last one, closing his eyes first, feeling his heartbeat and breathing calmed and a reasonable facsimile of contentment settled over his mind. Then he advanced the image, holding his breath for the wave of longing he knew was coming.

Madonna and child. The first of Teyla's people to have a babe on their new home had brought the infant to Atlantis to meet them all. He had barely known Elizabeth then. Hadn't yet found his place in this world. But when he'd seen her cuddling the baby, looking so much more relaxed suddenly; the worries, the death and sorrow, all smoothed over. He'd stared without realizing it until she looked up and met his gaze.

She'd looked abashed at first and then surprised, even as he blinked his burning eyes and started to turn away, feeling shaky and wondering what had happened to his footing. "Major," she'd called softly, smiling a little curiously and nodding for him to come closer. Somehow they'd ended up passing the baby back and forth between them for almost an hour, talking about all the children they'd each encountered through their lives. He was smiling down at her, standing besides her as she sat back on the balcony bench, the baby waving her little fists quietly in the crook of his arm, when mama had come back from her tour to get her.

Looking up at the young woman forced him to focus on the rest of the world again. And as he did, he found that the shakiness had gone; he'd found his place, his footing, knew where he belonged. Besides Elizabeth Weir. However she'd have him.

Looking at the picture of the two of them smiling at the sleeping face in Elizabeth's arms, he wondered what Teyla had thought as she took it.

He flipped back to the first shot and put the unit back in its place, then got himself on his feet, not wasting time trying to sleep again; if this started happening too often, he was going to have a problem with sleep deprivation again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to leave_me_light for making me think that they wouldn't have paper pictures...


	4. John

Walking along the silent halls of nighttime Atlantis, Elizabeth tried to make herself relax; let the worry that had built up over the last week finally dissipate. The city and all her people were safe. John was safe. She should be sleeping; should be catching up on the rest that she admitted she'd been shortchanging her body on. But she'd lain in bed for an hour already and hadn't been able to shut her mind down. Some niggling little root of worry was refusing to let her find enough peace.

And now as she reached the balcony nearest to John's quarters, she knew she'd been right. He was safe, but he wasn't completely okay.

As he stood out there, staring up into a beam of moonlight, for just a second her eyes played tired tricks on her and made her see him as a ghost. The nightmare she all too often had, of the dead soul of her friend guarding Atlantis while as ephemeral as that light. A hateful world in which they both stood alone and strained to continue the battle while emotionally reaching for each other in hopeless, helpless need.

The clouds finally shifted and the mirage passed, releasing her from the vision. She took a shuddering breath and walked out to him with determination, refusing to let the impossible-to-deny fear stop her from acting. From taking care of him and taking comfort from his presence.

She knew he heard her approach, saw the small shift in his stance that told her he was listening to her; would take her cue, would stand by her however she needed. Wondered when she'd started noticing it, relying on it; when he'd started doing it. And did she do the same?

"John?" she let the word hint at the worry she felt for him.

He shook his head and she could see that he was trying to smile as she came to stand next to him, answering in his softest voice, "I'm OK."

Of course. If she'd thought he expected her to believe that, she would have been very annoyed with him. As it was, he was stalling, which told her he didn't know how to explain himself... Which meant this wasn't simple; maybe wasn't even all, or at all, about work. Alright then, the slow road: gentle nudging, "You seemed a little on edge earlier."

An understatement. She'd actually *seen* the relief relax his stance when he'd gated through. There were rings under his eyes which a quiet trip shouldn't have caused, and then there'd been an off-balance intensity to the way he'd watched her; something she rarely saw, usually only when death was particularly near one of them. Which made it all the more worrisome to see when everything seemed to be going well enough.

And now sleepless John staring alone into the night... Her hand went to touch him, wanting to remind him he didn't *have* to be alone, but then she hesitated and pulled back, just as he turned his head to give her a reassuring smile; catching her mid-movement. His attention shifted from his inner thoughts to the present and he frowned from the hand to her, worriedly, catching it in one of his as he tilted his head in question.

His grip was warm, relaxed; comforting. Home and peace and everything she needed on dark nights. Unfortunately also reminding her of how rarely they let their skin meet; again, mostly only under situations of highest danger.

Facing his worried look with what she hoped was calm humour, she shrugged with a self-deprecating smile, answering the unspoken question, "I didn't want to make you uncomfortable." When he blinked in astonishment, her brows rose with forced teasing, too tired and concerned not to be honest, "You stiffened up pretty badly last time." She remembered she'd felt downright guilty for taking advantage of him as a matter of fact. Just because she'd thought he was dead was no reason not to respect his distance.

Now he winced, "Oh," he squeezed her hand in what felt like an apology, confusing her. And then he broke away from her gaze on the excuse of looking at the chilled limb he held, awkwardly bringing it to the forearm he must have assumed she'd been aiming for. She held her breath as he stroked her fingers absently before letting go and looking at her again, looking far too sorry for such a small thing... As he spoke, she shifted her hand to her real goal, more convinced than ever that he needed *something*. "You just surprised me that day. You don't usually hug people." He smiled wistfully at the hand on his bicep, continuing softly, "Or *touch* people."

She'd only meant her grip to be brief, but letting go now would say something she didn't want him to ever think. She hadn't really considered how her own physical boundaries affected people. But he was right, somewhere along the way, she'd picked up the habit of keeping everyone at a distance. A fairly common command stance, but still, to have not seen its effect... "I'm sorry. I really hadn't.. realized." she squeezed the muscle under her palm gently, "Though I do have to say, you're not exactly touchy-feely yourself *colonel*." The emphasis on his rank relaxed the tension that had threatened to grow between them with all this private honesty spilling out, making them grin at each other at the memory of another conversation, of flirting happily in the depth of an inter-galactic night.

And then her original question was back between them, but more relaxed, the track to secrets already broken; her hand staying where it was, mostly forgotten by both.

"There was just too much time for.. 'feeling' conversations."

She blinked, trying to picture such a thing in the context of his team. "'Feeling conversations'? Shall I tell Kate you said that?"

He pretended to grunt as though she'd gut-punched him, making her bite back a grin, then answered with utterly calm politeness, "I'd rather you didn't, thank you."

She laughed at the uncharacteristically correct, proper tone. When she stopped chuckling, she caught him giving her such a tender look her breath stuttered... was that what love looked like from John? What had *happened* on that planet??

Her hand crept to the ball of his shoulder and tightened as he looked back out over the water. "If.." he took a bracing breath and locked his eyes to hers seriously, "Teyla said something, and at the time the answer seemed so obvious.. but now... If someone was going to die, would *you* want to know how they felt? Would you want them to know how *you* felt?"

The silence stretched as her throat closed up and she bit her lip, her eyes burning; finally breaking away from his gaze and fixing on where her hand held him. She swallowed hard and made herself answer through the nightmares hazing her view again at the painful thought. "I think, it would depend. If.. if I care about the person... nothing could make the pain worse. And if I don't," she shrugged stiffly, seeing, out the corner of her, his hand reaching to touch *her* shoulder in comfort, "It won't really matter, so.. they may as well get it off their chest."

They stood in mirrored shoulder-stroking positions, waiting out her heavier breathing until she faced him again, seeing in him the sadness and regret, and loneliness and pain, that she knew all too well herself. The damned social conventions they lived with were going to destroy them one day.

She straightened and stiffened, seeing the understanding twitch of his lips, making herself thump down the damned 'feelings' enough to finish this conversation; she couldn't help him when she was letting herself drown. And this was, first and foremost, about him. "What about you? You said you were rethinking your first response."

He didn't answer at first. Looking away and seeming lost in thought again. She wanted so much to hug him right then. If she'd been sure it wouldn't make things worse... Before she could change her mind about what was better for him, he turned back to her, utterly determined now; her stubborn colonel, certain of the path they had to take and ready to convince her. "I love you."

Her eyes widened at the unexpected words, mouth dropping with the shock; not so much at the knowledge, but at hearing the words. He didn't waver as she recovered and when she tried to shape words, his hand lifted from her shoulder to lay a finger across her lips, blinking for an instant at the intimate touch before shaking his head, "I don't... you don't have to say anything. Once the nightmares got me up, I just couldn't stop hearing the question." He shrugged apologetically, "When you showed up, it seemed like part of a message. And then while we talked," he grinned, laughing at himself, inviting her to share the joke, "Then I realized it wasn't any real belief in staving off pain and sadness that was keeping me quiet; it was plain old stupid pride. So," he shifted back, momentarily squeezing both her shoulders but then doing the opposite of his words by stepping away from her, still smiling at her, "There you have it."


	5. Elizabeth

She couldn't look away from his eyes, a familiar mix of uncertainty and determination; couldn't stop hearing the simple honesty in his words. She was grateful for the skill she'd learned to read him, and his willingness to let his eyes speak to her. She knew he meant every word, and his willingness to abandon pride, for her, that would have held most people forever silent, humbled her. Made her see, again, why she had gotten attached to him so soon after meeting him.

Shaking her head at him, she caught his hands before he could completely move away, and then stepped right up to him. Eyes never leaving his, she watched reined, slowly-rising wonder burying the last edge of sorrow and fear that had clung to him. Once he'd stopped retreating, she let his hands go and grabbed his shoulders instead, absently licking her lips where they still tingled from his touch, smiling softly to see his attention suddenly focus on the movement, only to rise slowly to her eyes as she glided her hands up behind his ears, hinting with the lightest pressure for him to bend his head.

He couldn't quite believe this was happening. Seeing her barriers completely drop and open affection in her expression had been as close to heaven as he ever expected to get. Telling her the whole truth had been completely worth it in that instant of connection between them, no matter what their lives continued to throw at them. But when he felt her hands slide over the bare skin of his neck, the shiver that covered his whole body made it clear he was still greedy for more. His hands went to her waist, sneaking between her sweater and slacks; laying his fingers on the soft skin on her hips as she pressed her lips oh so tenderly to his.

Her indrawn breath at his touch played right into temptation's hands. One kiss just wasn't enough. What had started as gentle care got hooked into the stronger emotions they were both still recovering from, and suddenly the need tightened, hands and arms pulling bodies insistently closer as lips parted and demanded more. Demanded taste and knowledge; demanded to be inside each other.

He had no idea how long they managed to last on that *one* breath, their tongues exploring and being explored, the cord of arousal pulling tightly through them. Eventually they parted, gasping for air but unwilling to completely stop. Between harsh breaths, her lips kissed and suckled at the skin where his hastily-donned shirt was open. His head thrown back to try to breathe, he rocked her hips against his with tight restraint, faintly aware that they had both lost their grip on control. That those earlier, darker, emotions were still lurking; influencing them. That they should catch themselves...

Elizabeth's fingers played with the rims of his ears and the hair that curled around them, arms stretched to reach, feeling his body twitch with every touch; his arms jerking her against him with every touch. The coarse hair under her cheek, sheltering tender skin, and the heavy breathing in her ear, almost, but not quite, made her forget that she needed to say something to this man.

She lifted her head, her weight on *him* more than her toes, which was just as well because what he was doing to her was making her muscles shuddery... *Concentrate* Elizabeth! She opened her eyes from their half-closed state and took a steadying breath, seeing his eyes open as well at the change in her, his pupils as wide and dark as hers felt. As warily aware of the strength of the need between them, now that they'd opened themselves to it.

"John?" her voice was deeply husky, not helped by the loving quirk that shaped his lips or his stilled, but tight, grip on her hips, "I love you too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that's it for this story. I do have an epilogue half written, but that's another , NC17 story.. thanks for reading!


End file.
